Tale as Old as Time
by LightTheFlame
Summary: When she puts her father before herself and surrenders to the most ferocious mafia organization in the Known World, Elizabeth Liones has a choice to roll the dice—hatch a plan to escape fast or pay the price for the presence of a certain mafia lieutenant. T.
1. Chapter 1

Luminous sunlight spilled onto the lush grass outside the cottage engulfed in honeysuckles and roses, catching the fresh dew droplets and displaying a myriad of iridescent colors that shimmered in the cool morning air. The comfortable silence was broken by a holler and a 'ding-dong' at the doorstep of the cottage, and then came the sound of glass bottles clinking on the stone pavement. A few curt footsteps descended the elevated steps, and the morning calmness had returned to its peaceful rendition.

Until a yell occurred when a bottle crashed and spilled its contents with an almighty flourish.

The yell had sounded from a girl with shocking violet hair that contrasted deeply with the green grass growing in her garden. Then a swearing that any grown person would be appalled at escaped her pouty lips as she bent down to try to clean up the milky mess on the doorstep. Another girl appeared at the door, with pale lilac locks cascading down her back and softening hazel eyes. She spoke kindly to the younger one before advising her to leave the mess to her. The girl nodded before vanishing back into the cottage.

At the cherry-wood dining table sat a man with a long beard and a wizened face. His kind eyes looked around the table laden with freshly-baked baguettes and homemade jam, and let out a contented sigh. As his daughter stormed through the kitchen, muttering about the milkman's great stupidity to place his bottles too close to the door, he calmly reached for some bread and deftly spread strawberry jam onto it.

The girl with the lilac hair reentered the kitchen with a sopping wet cloth and broken glass in a dustpan. The old man's face brightened at her entrance. "Margaret," he beamed when his daughter smiled back. "A lovely day, isn't it? Might want to bottle some of that fresh air outside for a cloudy day."

The girl, or Margaret as she was called, blushed but remained firm. "Father, we both know that the real bookworm in this household is not me. I just so happen to love poetry and novels—but please, don't tease me. I can't stand it."

The old man chuckled. "Ah, maybe I have finally weaseled out of you a wish for a gift from the city that I'll be traveling to one of these days: a novel, or perhaps, a diary? Enough pages to spill your uneven thoughts unto."

"Firstly, please stop the teasing, Father, and secondly, all I really want is for you to come back safely, Father," Margaret replied modestly, then hesitated. "Though I really do require a new dress." Not so modest, after all.

"Our dear tomboy seamstress will fix that for you," the father motioned to the other purple-haired girl who had flopped down in her seat in a mood. "Veronica, what is it that you might want?"

"A new catapult," Veronica replied curtly, as if she'd planned the answer in her head all along. "The boys won't take me seriously if I don't bring back some game from the forests."

"Ah," grunted the unnerved father when he heard clumsy footsteps descend down the stairs. His face immediately brightened to its best. "And lastly, of course," and with that he rose from his seat at the table and walked out into the hall where he saw the person he was referring to, "What might little Elizabeth fancy?"

A face appeared as she stepped out from the shadows of the staircase, her face a big grin as she placed her hands into her father's waiting ones and hopped off the last steps. Swirling and twirling her way into the dining room, she exclaimed, "An adventure! Oh, Father, you do know that all I really want is a real, exciting adventure to go on!"

The old man knew where this was going. "For the last time, Elizabeth," and he let go of her hands and threw his own in the air dramatically. "You are not allowed to follow me on my trip to the city. You're supposed to stay here and help your sisters with the chores and family business." The look in his eyes was final.

The girl, Elizabeth, swung her silver strands back and forth in disapproval. "Father, I understand, but you go to the fair every year! Can't I go at least once?" You see, the youngest of Baltra Liones' daughters loved a good adventure into the woods, in a scorching desert; even under the sea. Baltra would shake his head at her antics and sigh and say the same things over and over again.

"This is the result of reading way too many books, Elizabeth," he'd muttered to her by the fire on a wintry day. "When will you learn that stories are just fairy tales—they're not real?" That was the first time she heard those words, when she was ten. Since then she'd been hearing those words repeated every time she turned a page.

But she couldn't really help it. Elizabeth would endure all the nagging and reprimands she got if it meant she could continue to read. Since she was a very small child, when her eyes landed a book, they'd light up with some unknown life that her sisters never knew she had; when they passed over every word they seemed to be filled with excitement and imagination. Elizabeth would then fly off to fantasy land: there she would fight vicious pirates, swim with mermaids, and fly with fairies.

Maybe the reason behind her specialty for reading that her sisters didn't have was that she was adopted. Maybe the reason was because she was just younger than the rest and could dream constantly of princes and dragons. But no matter what it was, no one could really take away the life of books from the silver-haired girl.

Now, as she stepped into the kitchen to wash up—the penalty for waking up the latest—Elizabeth couldn't help but yearn for a trip to the city. Her father always had some inventive new contraption that he thought could win him some prize money if it was good enough. Margaret always said to him that it was intriguing and innovative, but Elizabeth knew deep down that her eldest sister thought that inventions were silly, and that she would prefer to stick to traditional methods than new ones. Veronica, on the other hand, only liked inventions that were made for attacking or hunting, which her father never made since he was a harmless man. Only Elizabeth looked into it with interest. She would try to dive into a new story she herself would invent from her father's creation. She would then immerse herself into imagining how the thing would work and what she would use it for.

It was more of a pastime for her since her father rarely had time to stay in his workshop for at least two minutes during the day, except during mealtimes where he had his lunch brought over in a basket. The constant work of a village chief was, for him, never-ending. He could only ever carry out his secret passion in the night. While Elizabeth liked to joke that only his stomach had actually been for bread and other sorts of pastry, his heart never was. But whenever he tried to knead dough or even place a baguette in the toaster you could sense his keen mind already formulating a new idea that he was determined to try, whatever the odds. It was that similarity that he and his youngest possessed: the eagerness for new things.

It was also a curious thing on why he couldn't see good in that quality of his daughter when he himself used it to its best. Elizabeth never truly minded, because no matter what anyone said she would continue to read and read and read till the cows came home.

Or at least, until the bread in the oven turned black.

.

Father's workshop was located at the back of the cottage, a smallish shed with more flowers entwining around the architecture. There was a door in the front where her father would enter from to do his experiments, but the girls always used the side door to bring in food or check up on him. It was probably because the front door was so rickety and old that if his daughters were not delicate it could collapse in a second. Margaret and Elizabeth meant well, but Veronica was another case. Therefore, to make things easier, Baltra built a second entrance leading out to the woods for them to put to use.

Elizabeth was usually the one to go back and forth between houses. Margaret was always so busy, baking and tending to customers at the makeshift stall they'd set up outside the house for her to sell some of her goods for extra pocket money. And Veronica was either out shooting with the boys or locked away in her bedroom, also known to the Liones family as the needlework sanctuary, where the usually impatient and clumsy Veronica would work her magic on cloth and stitch rags and odd pieces into a fine dress that any village girl would swoon at. She had always attempted to teach Elizabeth how to sew and make patchwork quilts, but somehow the little silver-haired girl never had the knack for holding a needle without pricking herself dry.

Elizabeth, however, was constantly bored. She was not old enough to be trusted with important errands that Margaret was occasionally told to carry out, or to go hunting with the men for game in the woods. Even Veronica wasn't supposed to go, but being one of the chief's daughters certainly had its advantages. So she would busy herself with small chores, such as laying out the bread for display or helping the village blacksmith Raizer sharpen arrows for the boys' next hunting trip, but most of all she enjoyed heading to the library when she was left to her own devices. The attendant hardly stayed in there for long, so the only inhabitant most of the times was Elizabeth, accompanied with the gift of reading. She could stay there for hours until her sisters came to look for her, calling her in for dinner, or she would just reach for a book of the shelf and bring it back home with her. Sometimes, even during dinner times, Baltra would hear the sound of munching and the flutter of a page, and there he would begin his reprimands of Elizabeth's rudeness.

Today, in contrast, Elizabeth was more than excited. Though her good mood had been dampened by her father's final decision of the trip to the city she couldn't help but feel jumpy inside. Ever since the Liones family had found Elizabeth on their doorstep ten years ago they had been celebrating the anniversary of this new addition every year on the exact date they'd found her, June the 12th. Neither Elizabeth nor her adoptive family were sure of whether this was the day she was born, but everyone held in their hearts the fact that that did not matter, only that Elizabeth was a complete blessing to the household. Every year they reminded her of her importance, and for that she loved each and every one of them.

And that day was right around the corner. Tomorrow, a combined shower of adoration would rain down on her, but not as if it wasn't like that every day. It was more of a birthday, but every day Elizabeth could feel the love from her adoptive father and sisters. It was just that tomorrow she'd just feel it stronger than ever. For the past few days her sisters had busied themselves for preparing for her day, but it was a Liones family custom to always go about normally just before the day of the event itself. Father always said it helped to relax the mind and body, and the sisters took his word for it.

As Margaret carried on with her pastry-making and Veronica her catapult practice, Elizabeth decided to visit the townspeople. It was another one of her pastimes as she was never fully trusted with anything, as she was seemingly young and clumsy with her hands, slender though they were. As a daughter of a chieftain and perhaps a future heir to take after her father, she decided long ago to make a good impression for herself, although she was very sure that Margaret, then Veronica would inherit his title, and she was all but Baltra Liones' youngest adopted daughter, and since she was never blood-related to him she would never take up the title. But she still bore a heart of gold, maybe inherited from her kind-hearted parents that were unknown to her. So she set off, swinging her arms gaily and mock-whistling a tune her father played on his pipe.

She passed the blacksmith Raizer, busy at his work, making iron swords and arrow tips for the huntsmen of the village: namely all the young men and fathers bringing game back for the family. Father was always trying to change something for Liones, but just like Margaret, not many had the right resolve to learn of new things; rather, they'd stick to plain old tradition. Perhaps it was because it provided them assurance that they would not lose their jobs; Raizer for example, with his metal arrow heads and sword hilts, would gain no income if a machine took over his work for him. Baltra understood, but sometimes Elizabeth would see that mournful glint in his eye; he was sad that his people were not improving unlike the city folk.

Only Father was really allowed to venture into the inner parts of Britannia. As chieftain, he would also bring back necessary goods for the townspeople. Regulars had no money to afford the fare to the city; instead they made do with their paddy fields and orchards. Elizabeth glanced up to watch hardworking farmers harvest the grain for this year's harvest festival, which was only a few days from now. The Liones sisters could never wait for this festival: all the rice they could have! All the cakes that could be made from these fruitions! It was certainly a mouth-watering entitlement for them.

Elizabeth silently thanked them in her head, praying for the stars to fall on them with blessings. Then she continued her skip to her second home: the library. There was nothing more to distract her from reaching her destination, so when she reached the large oaken doors, she pushed them open with her scrawny arms, not a moment's hesitation within her.

Sunlight broke through a shaft in the well-worn roof that had endured months of rain and shine, and its weathered tiles had fallen to the carpeted floor and shattered into pieces. Elizabeth carefully avoided stepping on sharp debris and promised herself that she'd clean it up before the librarian arrived. For now, the books were all hers.

Shelves and shelves of endless ecstasy awaited her; her blue eyes marveled at the sights. Elizabeth always awed at how this place never ceased to amaze her to the fullest. So many books, so many windows to open to explore so many new worlds to immerse in an adventure… Elizabeth couldn't wait any longer. She rushed into the wonderland, sheer joy filling her young heart, which was never void of hope.

.

It was a good four hours before she suddenly remembered that she had to clean that mess up in the front hall. Stacking numerous books onto her hands, which amazingly held twice as much as usual, she made her way into the hall.

Staggering under the weight of the pages and her eyes adjusting to the new light that entered her vision, she trod on her own shoe and books were sent flying, and she was twirling to the ground very quickly. Instantly she shut her eyes, but she knew that just closing her eyes wouldn't rid the jagged debris on the floor that she was now about to crash onto.

She landed on the floor, expecting blood to pour out of her heart… only to feel sore pain after an anti-climactic thump.

The floor was clean. Rubbing her rump, she looked up to see the bespectacled librarian smirking down at her, her short chestnut bob waving on her shoulders. "Lucky for you I was here to clean it up," she mused. "Your family's waiting for you."

A bewildered Elizabeth mumbled a confused goodbye and went home, still shaken from the previous experience. Now empty handed, as she forgot to pick up the books in her hurry, she raced home to the safety of the Liones' household.

The first thing she got was an earful of scolds from Veronica, and some kind but stern words from both Margaret and Father, but that was all. As they ate Veronica's game that night for supper, the sisters chatted to their father about his upcoming journey to the city, though Elizabeth was still unsatisfied with his refusal of towing her along. However, not one word of tomorrow's events graced the family's lips. It was a tightly-kept secret between the two older ones and the eldest.

Later that night, as she snuggled up into her covers, Elizabeth contemplated what tomorrow would bring. More books? More fun? An adventure? The moon gazed down at her from her window and silver moonlight was strewn across her pillow, illuminating her sapphire-tinted eyes like gems in a sparkling cave of mysteries. She willed the moon to answer, but it gazed back at her and at last she gave up the staring game and fell asleep before it could provide a satisfying response.

Evidently she had no idea what a real adventure meant. But the moon, hung up by an invisible white hair in the blackness of the sky, envisioned, upon a pristine mirror made of glistening water, that she was about to find herself in for a wild ride. She just didn't know how wild.

 **...**

 **A crazy three-thousand word chapter for this fabulous tale that will unfold before you this 2016! New Year's treat for you guys, and I'm very, very, very excited for this fic to turn out! Finally a full plot with crazy details aligned, cheesy romantic moments, and most of all, a wonderful ride for readers that they've never experienced before! Okay, I know I'm sounding crazy proud of myself right now, but I'm just too excited for words. Would be gladly pleased if you'd have the honor of sharing this pride and fascination with me! PM me if you need more insight on this fic, since I cannot say too much at the current moment. Happy New Year to all, and thanks for making 2015 unbelievable!**

 **-Mint-chan.**


	2. Chapter 2

**After being gone for, well, half a year, TAOAT is back! What with all the mid-years I had to take, it's finally time to get my inspiration juices working now that it's the holidays! And yes, Beauty and the Beast will be coming out in 2017, and I'm so hyped for more Emma Watson! Just saying, you know.**

 **Anyway, I already had Chapter 2 in my storage for a while, and I completed the second half of it today. Yes, I did say I am super hyped for this one (partly because I've FINALLY rearranged all my thoughts on this one and have planned out a GENERAL PLOTLINE) but eh, when the brain ain't working it won't be working for a while. Sorry for the ramble.**

 **Hope you guys love this one!**

* * *

When the first rays of sunlight spilled into the bedroom farthest from the staircase a girl with dripping silver strands trod heavily out of the shower.

It evidently didn't help when she had to part the curtain of silver that hung above her forehead to help clear her blocked vision. Elizabeth groped around for the dress hanging on the doorknob, effectively yanking the entire thing from the hanger itself and, having used too much force, collapsing into a flurry of towels and satin.

Elizabeth cursed under her breath when she saw that she had gotten her dress wet. It was made from fine pure satin, the neckline barely modest and the sleeves barely covering her shoulders, and the hem ended just below her knee. Silver intricate patterns traced themselves like creepers around a pillar. She made extra sure to dry her body cautiously while she left the dress to dry beneath the fan. Wrapping herself tighter in her towel, she stepped back into the bathroom to dry up a bit.

The bathroom had a small vent covered with netting to prevent any unwanted creatures flying inside. Still, the netting did not prevent Elizabeth from smelling the appetizing scents wafting up to her nose from the kitchen below. Her sisters and father must be cooking up a wonderful breakfast, lunch and tea for today, the anniversary of her as a part of the Lioneses.

She slipped on the dress and gazed at her reflection in the mirror. Staring back at her was a girl with flawless pure skin, big blue eyes and a beautiful outfit—probably too beautiful for a girl as simple as she was. She didn't deserve this kind of unnatural beauty; this wasn't anything like her. Just because she should celebrate the occasion doesn't mean she should doll herself up in the superficial beauties this world could offer.

It was strange for her sisters when she thought like this, since they really couldn't understand her in-depth thinking, but she didn't mind that. She'll just have to come up with an excuse for not wearing her second sister's birthday present to her.

She slipped on her ordinary day dress—short and blue with a uncomplicated white design on the front—and looked back into the mirror with a much more positive outlook. That was the real her: simple, pretty and that's about it. Feeling light in her heart she trooped put her bedroom and bounded down the stairs.

The first person she saw was Margaret, who was dolled up in a cotton-knit gown of midnight blue. It brought out her hazel eyes and pale skin, and the older sister was surprised to see her younger sister not in her birthday dress.

"Where's the one Veronica made you?" she exclaimed.

Elizabeth smiled daintily. "I kind of found it way too beautiful for today. I'd probably wear it at some sort of wedding." Margaret stared, even squinted at her younger sister, then laughed and shook her head. "Whatever you say, birthday girl." She retreated back into the kitchen, citing for Elizabeth to make herself comfortable in the dining room.

The wafting smells were possibly too much for her to bear. Elizabeth peeked into the kitchen, then with one big surge of energy slammed the door open. "Wow!" she literally exhaled.

Pangs of the rosemary scent squeezed her stomach glands dry. The smell of ham and melting cheese drifted from the oven. In front of her, Veronica, surprisingly apt at cooking, pinched at a piece of bread soaking in batter and flipped it around. Elizabeth's eyes widened to the size of plates.

"French toast!" she cried. Veronica gave her a knowing smile.

Someone stepped in through the door, and Baltra, larger than life, swept his daughter up into his bear-like arms with joy. "Happy birthday, my dear!" Elizabeth's smile was radiant when he put her down. "Many happy returns of the day."

"Thank you, Father." She eyed the basket he had put down on a stool near him. "What's that you've got there?" Baltra smiled, taking out a dozen oranges and placing them on the tabletop. "Orange juice."

"Amazing!" Margaret let out a little chuckle at Elizabeth's enthusiasm while putting on oven mittens and placing her hand on the oven handle. "Careful now, it's going to be hot," and she pulled. Indulgent, extravagant scents exited the oven door.

Elizabeth let out a strange cross between a groan and a gurgle. The other Lioneses laughed.

After a few minutes in which the French toast came out just nicely and the ham and cheese rolls had had some time to cool, Elizabeth surveyed the sight on the dining table with interest. No, interest doesn't begin to cover it… more like surveying it with the eyes of a hawk on its prey.

"Ham and cheese rolls, French toast with vanilla ice cream and berries, fresh orange juice…" She squealed aloud and jumped into her sisters' arms. "This is the best breakfast ever!"

Her sisters shared a look behind her back, knowing for long how to deal with their younger sister's eccentric behavior. "Happy birthday, Elizabeth."

…

After a hearty breakfast and a few dad jokes, Elizabeth bounded out of her house and down the street. People there wished her a happy birthday, and were dazzled by her smile. Taking the steps two at a time, she finally reached the door of her favorite place in town. Breathing deeply, she rapped her knuckles curtly on it.

The bespectacled librarian opened the door and smiled. "Happy birthday, Elizabeth," she said, and placed a book in her hands. "You wanted this, didn't you?"

Elizabeth stared wide-eyed. "How did you possibly…?"

The librarian chuckled. "It's no surprise you keep borrowing your favorite book on the day you were born, is it? Now, go spend some family time instead of reading for once, silly girl."

Elizabeth thanked her profusely, eyes shining with gratitude.

…

"Margaret?" The youngest sister knocked softly on Margaret's bedroom door. "You called me just now?"

"Ah, yes," Margaret smiled softly at her sister's voice. "Come in."

Elizabeth opened the door timidly, as if she was committing a crime. Margaret had never openly invited her into her room in fear of her excitement causing her to break any intricate ornaments sitting on shelves and cupboards. She humbly took the opportunity to marvel at the tidiness of her sister's room.

"Have a seat, won't you?" Elizabeth sat down next to her on her bed. There was a wooden box in her sister's dainty hands, having intricate carvings steeled into the wood.

"I wanted to give you this," Margaret pressed the box into her sister's hands, a wavering smile of nostalgia on her face. "To commemorate my youngest sister's seventeenth birthday. You're a woman now, Elizabeth."

Somehow the words that escaped her eldest sister's mouth hung in the air before disappearing into the space of Elizabeth's imaginative brain. Before it did, though, she contemplated the weight of her sister's words, and cherished them.

She opened the box and gasped. Inside was a single sapphire earring, with the image of a sun, a moon and a cluster of stars emblazoned in the center. Its simple beauty and elegance was enough to take Elizabeth's breath away.

"It was handed down to me from my mother on my fifth birthday," Margaret said softly, admiring the earring with eyes glimmering. "I felt you needed it too."

Elizabeth gasped under her breath. Margaret and Veronica's mother, Caroline, had passed away right before Margaret turned five. Seeming to read her thoughts, Margaret slid her hand into hers.

"It's okay, I'm fine now," she gave a small smile. "You know, whenever you feel troubled, or helpless, just hold onto this… and think of me and Veronica, and Father. You'll remember the ones you love through it, no matter where you are. It helped me a lot too."

Elizabeth flung her arms around her sister, her mouth moving silently in thanks while tears brimmed in her eyes. Margaret wrapped her arms around her too, enjoying her embrace.

When they pulled away, Elizabeth handed the earring to her, and whispered hoarsely, "Help me put it on." Margaret compromised, fitting it in place in Elizabeth's ear.

"It's beautiful!" Elizabeth stared in awe, mouth gaping, as she stared at her reflection in the mirror. The earring was a little heavy, but she'd get used to it somehow.

"It's on you, dear," Margaret winked, and said, "Quickly now! Father wants to speak to you about something" and pushed her out of her room.

…

"Elizabeth," Baltra began, and cleared his throat. "For once, I'm going to say this to you, so while I'm telling you, please do not interrupt any second." Elizabeth nodded, wide-eyed.

Baltra closed his eyes and sighed. "When I come back from the fair, with all your lovely trinkets for your sisters… I'll take you on a picnic in the woods. Just the two of us, your late birthday present. Is that okay for you?"

He kept his eyes closed, and was certainly startled when two warm arms wrapped around him tightly. "It's not okay!" Elizabeth cried. "It's absolutely, fabulously, definitely awesome!"

Baltra gave her a knowing smile. "Then get some sleep, my child. You've got to get up early to send me off tomorrow."

Elizabeth landed a kiss on his cheek, gratitude spilling from her heart, then retreated into her room. She changed out of her day gown into a comfy cotton night gown, and looked at herself in the mirror once more. The sapphire earring glistened as it hung from her ear.

"God, thank you," she clasped her hands together and bowed her head. "For these wonderful people you've brought into my life."

She went to sleep, the last thing she saw being the dress hanging on her wardrobe door. Her dreams consisted of an exciting, out-of-this-world story involving a stolen earring and a suspicious picnic. But she never got to finish her dream, because a knock on the front door awoke her from slumber.

* * *

 **Whoa, what's with the mystery knock? Third chapter coming soon (YES, I'm writing it now.)**

-Mint-chan.


	3. Chapter 3

Elizabeth shuddered.

There it was again.

A sinister, ominous knock that brought rain clouds over her home.

Okay, maybe that was a bit over-the-top, but nonetheless, it was suspicious.

Like, who in their right mind knocks on a door at three in the morning?!

Anyway, Elizabeth pushed away those thoughts and breathed noisily in her bed. Her blue eyes blinked rapidly and gradually became wide.

The knocking stopped for a while. Then it came again, louder.

Her heart seized in her chest. Hurriedly, she threw a bathrobe over her night-gown, slipped her feet into fluffy shoes, and ventured out of her comfort zone.

The hallway was dark. She was afraid of flipping the switch in case they heard her, or worse, saw the light flicker on. She really didn't want them to know, whoever they were, that she was inside.

She crept down the corridor down to Margaret's room, the closest to hers. She was just about to turn the knob when she heard the sound of a door opening. Had they managed to pick the lock to get in? She froze on the spot.

Veronica's purple head peeked out and caught sight of her. Elizabeth brought a finger to her lips very slowly, shushing her obnoxious sister. She indicated toward Margaret's door, and then pointed toward Baltra's door while making eye contact with her sister. Veronica, eyebrows narrowed, nodded and proceeded with waking their father up.

Elizabeth turned the door knob ever so quietly to see her once-sleeping sister sitting up in her bed, worry clouding her face. When Elizabeth motioned for her to come, she mouthed 'is something wrong?' but followed suit anyway.

The three sisters had regrouped outside in the hallway, waiting for their father. They all exchanged looks when Baltra emerged, and gave the girls a horrific shock. His face had gone excessively pale, and his eyes were as wide as saucers. "Quickly," he said in a hushed whisper, "escape out the back door. Don't look back!"

The two elder sisters didn't question their father and went down the stairs toward the back of the house. Only Elizabeth hesitated, rooted to the spot. 'Escape'… was Father up against bad people? Is that why he wants us to go, to save our lives?

She couldn't abandon her father here. But the pleading look in his eyes made her waver. She decided to go with her sisters, but the suspicion in her heart did not go away.

The door was hanging open when she reached it. Her sister's faces peeked out, urging her to come. She took one look back at the dark stairs before disappearing into the late night.

…

"Who are they?" Veronica mouthed. Elizabeth and Margaret stayed silent.

They were hiding behind trees in the forest at the back of their home, watching the scene in front of their house. Two men were knocking violently on the front door, while another two were holding torches for light. In the dim glow, the sisters could see that they were dressed in posh-looking suits.

"What do they want with us?" Veronica whispered again, but when Elizabeth looked up, Margaret's face was the epitome of fear. Her eldest sister crouched, hugging her knees in worry.

"I've seen them before," she revealed breathlessly. "They are not… nice people."

All three sisters' hearts thumped in unison at that moment. All they could do was continue watching.

"Open up, old man!" one of them grouched, and Elizabeth could tell he was a rough man. Just the size of him was already intimidating.

The door opened, and to her horror her father stepped out. "You called?"

A slap sent Baltra to the ground. Elizabeth cried out but no sound emerged. "Don't play dumb with me, geezer!" The man shouted.

She looked to her sisters in terror. They had the same looks on their faces. Couldn't any of the neighbors hear what the ruckus was about?

Then she saw it. Elizabeth saw, in the dim moonlight, a face peeking out from one of the nearby houses, eyeing the scene below. It was one of the neighbors whose name she had forgotten, but nonetheless, was kind and good-hearted. All of a sudden, the face locked eyes with Elizabeth, and out of the blue, vanished rapidly behind the curtain.

Elizabeth could only stare. Is he coming down to help them? Or staying in his room?

But judging by the terrified look in his eyes, she assumed he wouldn't be coming down anytime soon.

Her father was coughing hard now. And then she saw the man, whatever monster he was, lean down toward him and whisper in his ear. Fear sparked in Baltra's eyes, and unconsciously, his gaze spun toward them.

The man's gaze followed.

Uh-oh.

"Run!" Elizabeth heard a frantic yelp, and realized it was hers. The sisters fled into the woods, tripping over roots and stumbling onto fallen branches, but never stopping for a second, for they knew those men would be on their trail.

Elizabeth stripped off her bathrobe to make it easier for her to run, and followed Veronica who was in the lead. Margaret was close behind her, or so she had thought.

The sound of something breezing through the air and sticking into an object along with a cry of pain made her turn around, only to see Margaret collapsing and a gun pointed toward her. A gun, the fatal thing that she'd only read about in books.

Elizabeth had yet to compromise all of this when dizziness struck her, and she fell.

…

She awoke bound in ropes. Elizabeth surveyed her surroundings, and found a dart sitting next to her.

She was on her knees, and soon she found that her sisters across from her were too. Baltra's head was bleeding, and she wanted to cry out to him, but the gag in her mouth prevented her to do so.

The man who had shouted at her father looked even more massive up close. He had a scary purple gaze and terrifying muscles. Heck, he even had a scary hairstyle.

"So these are your property too, old man?" He sneered at the girls. "Guess you didn't let that money go to waste, after all."

"I promised to pay you back in two more years' time; just give me some more time!" Baltra exclaimed exasperatedly, his dark brown eyes watery. "Just… let my daughters go!"

Elizabeth's mouth hung open. Money? Waste? Time?

The scary man's eyes locked onto hers, and she immediately shivered in her shoes—metaphorically, the shoes she'd lost while running. He advanced toward her, and leaned down in her face. Elizabeth could smell cigar smoke and beer hanging around this ominous man.

"You don't know, do you? The shady things your father has been doing behind your backs to bring you up to this?" He smirked evilly, and Elizabeth did not like that smirk. She wanted to head-butt him like how they did in books, but she was too afraid as she wilted under his gaze.

He straightened, and opened his mouth. "Your shameless father borrowed money from the esteemed Lieutenant Wrath to raise his two daughters after their mother died. Now I see he's got a third one, too." He looked down at the sniveling old man on the ground. "Wonder how you got that one, huh, Baltra?"

Her father's name was said with such shame and hatred that Elizabeth could not bear it. She shook her head violently, trying to get the loose gag out of her mouth, all the while thinking her father probably had a valid reason to borrow money from this Wrath guy… didn't he?

"Howzer, please!" The man's name was spoken for the first time by her pleading father. "Just let my daughters go. You can have me instead."

Elizabeth shook free of her gag and roared, "No!"

The man known as Howzer looked at her and smirked again, to her annoyance. "I would love to do that, Baltra, but you see, you yourself are not enough to settle the bill Lieutenant Wrath gave you. It states here in this notice I have from the esteemed lieutenant," and he took a scroll from one of his henchmen and read aloud, "to 'hoard all property belonging to Baltra Liones, including himself and his family members'. End quote. Better not to turn against his orders, you know? You and I know that from experience."

Baltra's face contorted, and Elizabeth realized her adopted father was crying. Tears splashed onto the ground, and his bleeding lips quivered.

"She's not one of us!"

Elizabeth swiveled to the voice. Margaret had shook free of her gag too, but her eyebrows were narrowed viciously and her gaze was set steadily on her. Her heart stopped.

Howzer stuck a finger in his ear, annoyed. "What?"

Margaret was so determined, so strong… "She's not one of the Liones!" She motioned toward Elizabeth. _Eh?_

Howzer squinted at Baltra. "Is that true?"

Baltra caught sight of Margaret's blazing eyes, and looked at Howzer adamantly. "Who's she?"

Elizabeth felt her heart breaking. Weren't they her family?

Veronica had also broken free of her mouth gag. "All in all, she's not one of us. You can check for birth papers, but you won't find anything in there."

Howzer laughed, and it was not a nice laugh. "No, but we'll find lots of other things of value to the Lieutenant." He signaled the men behind him.

And, to the family's horror, they entered the house, and after ten minutes emerged with items from Margaret's shelves, Veronica's cupboards, Elizabeth's desk and last of all, Baltra's work shed. Baltra gasped aloud, but said nothing.

Elizabeth wanted to scream, but her voice was gone. Her family was denying her, and now everything she ever owned… gone too? Silent tears streamed down her face.

A man stepped up to Howzer and murmured in his ear. He smirked. "It's true there aren't any birth papers for her. Let her go."

Elizabeth, dumbfounded, let her bonds be severed—her physical ones and her emotional ones. But when she caught her sister's gaze again, Margaret's was of a happy sadness… but there was no hints of remorse in it whatsoever.

Then she understood. Her family had been trying to convince them to let her, only her, go free.

"No!" She yelled, finding her voice again, struggling against the men's rough arms and, once they let go of her, clinging onto one's pant leg. "Tie me up like the others!"

"Tch!" A kick sent her flying. Blood spilled from her nose, but she got up again, trying to get them to bind her, but they refused. Her nose, dirty with snot and blood running from them, went numb.

"Leave her alone, men," Howzer stated, a cold indifference hovering around him this time. "It says here 'to take all property' and not the people he loves, and she's not his property anyway. Not worth your time."

The men abandoned her and returned to Howzer's side. Just when she thought everything was over, a sneer had resurfaced onto his evil face.

"It's not the end yet, I'm afraid," and he motioned with his fingers. To her horror, one of them took out a matchbox.

"No," she whispered.

He swiped it along the side and a spark ignited.

"No!" she cried. "NO!"

The man let the lit match drop from his fingers.

"NOOO!"

And the last thing she saw, with her watery vision, was her beloved home for seventeen years going up in flames and the only people who cared about her being dragged away into a large car and driven away.

…

Elizabeth awoke on cold hard ground. _It's so cold…_

She sat up and looked at her bare feet. _I seem to have lost my bathrobe…_

Yesterday morning's horrid memories came flooding back into her mind.

The fire… the screaming… her sisters' cries… her father's tears…

Tears streamed down her own cheeks. Shivering, she looked toward the house. It had all been burned to a crisp, and there was no flame left. Everything she once had, reduced to embers.

Her muddy fingers ran through her damp hair. It seemed it had rained slightly in the morning. From the sun, she assumed it would be 8 in the morning. How long had it been since those incidents happened? Where was her family now?

Elizabeth got to her feet. Mud squished in between her toes.

She had to find them.

And rescue them. Somehow.

Faded tire tracks told her the car had disappeared somewhere into the woods. Cold, tired and hungry, she followed them.

…

She had been walking for a good deal when she tripped, stumbling headfirst into more mud. Wiping it from her greasy, tear-streaked face, her feet caked in mud screamed for her to stop.

 _No, I have to go on… Father and my sisters…_

She collapsed onto the ground and lay there. The tears fell from her face, and she just lay there for a very, very long time and cried until she couldn't cry anymore. She just stared at the sky through the leaves and decided to try to get something to eat.

Elizabeth wandered around the woods a bit more, in case she could find any fruit trees. To her relief, a gooseberry bush was in sight. She picked some of those and munched on them on the way, the sweet and sour juice dribbling down her chin. Next she found a river, and the cool, clean water washed away the dirt on her face and arms and, temporarily, her insecurities.

When she got up, she realized to her horror that she had left the tire trail. Frantic, she tried to look for it again but to no avail. Thinking all hope was lost, she sat beneath a large tree and cried some more. Her family was probably suffering now and she couldn't do anything about it.

She ventured further into the woods, her eyes barely open to see where she was going. Suddenly a whirring noise startled her.

Instinctively, Elizabeth jumped behind a tree. Her blue eyes were now wide and alert, and she sucked in a breath, and held it. Out of the blue, a car appeared, and went south.

If she was not wrong that car looked like the one her family was driven off in. Speeding up, but all the more cautious and careful, Elizabeth became hot on the heels of the car.

She reached a building, pretty big with the words 'Lianes Vends Dye' emblazoned across its surface. The car door opened, and she hid quickly behind a bush. It was a large clearing, where this building was situated, but then she realized this was the back of it. The front was much bigger, and though she couldn't bet on it, grander indeed.

A man stepped out, tugging on another man's collar and dragging him into the building. The glass doors opened wide to let him in after he flashed a tag at a hidden sensor.

Was this the place her family was held captive in? Elizabeth surveyed her surroundings, then, sure there was no one around, crept out of her hiding place. She was sure there was some sort of close-circuit cameras closing in on her every movement, so she took care not to get too close to the building. Instead she rounded the back, to the side of it, where it looked a little more run-down compared to the grandness of the back. There was a door there, with a knob, and when she found she could open it, she snuck inside.

Crates filled the room. Solely wooden crates surrounded her being. Standing there in awe, Elizabeth walked between crates, old ones and ones that were here recently, she could tell. Their wood was newer than the near-rotting ones.

She stopped at a cluster of them. The tag 'Lieutenant Wrath' had been slapped onto them. This couldn't be…

She looked around and spotted a crowbar. After a while of struggle and toil, the crates sprung open, and curiously she peeked inside.

It was her family's, all of it! All their clothes were in one crate, and the sister's belongings were in the other. Another was filled with her father's tools and trinkets, and she couldn't but help smile remorsefully when she saw them.

A glint of wood caught her eye beneath all those. _What's that?_

She dug slowly, careful not to wound herself on any sharp things without making too much noise. She retrieved three wooden cylindrical objects with holes in them, a sign carved into each of them: a sun, a moon, and a star.

 _Flutes?_ She was tempted to blow into one and see what would happen, but she decided to ask her father about it later. If she ever got to see him.

Her top priority now was to save her sisters and father. Right now, these things meant nothing. But just for safekeeping, she pocketed the flutes and discreetly put the covers back on so no one would have thought a dirty girl had been snooping around Lieutenant Wrath's crates.

"You, the dirty girl who's snooping around Lieutenant Wrath's crates, put your hands in the air NOW!"

* * *

 **An amazing near 3,000 beauty for you people! To be honest, I think it's the longest I've ever written in a short time... but then again, it's been a long time since I've EVER written.**

 **Oh no, Eli's caught this time. What's her next move? Find out in Chapter 4!**

 **Reviews are much appreciated!**

 **P.S Wish I didn't have to type Eli's name over and over again... such a workout for my fingers!  
** -Mint-chan.


	4. Chapter 4

Her back was to him. Elizabeth froze, hands in the air. His voice was different from Howzer's, less rough and more refined. She didn't dare to turn around.

The metallic clank of armor sounded, one clunk after another, until she could nearly feel the man breathing down her neck. Perhaps that was just her imagination, but to her it seemed very, very real.

He leaned in toward her face from her left. She hardly dared to glance from her side eye, but she snuck a look. The first thing she saw… the color pink?

"Who might you be?" Cold blue eyes met hers; their eyes were nearly identical in color, but he was the wolf and she was the rabbit: he hulking, broad and frightening, and she the frightened.

"What is your purpose here?" He asked again, and Elizabeth felt herself gulp down saliva. "I… I…" she squeaked.

"Hey!" Another voice sounded, this one familiar to her ears. "What are you doing here?"

Howzer bounded up to them, and in the light bursting through the wooden shafts Elizabeth could see the dark blond of his hair and his piercing purple gaze penetrating through her chest, as if searching for a sin she'd committed.

"You know her, Howzer?" The pink-haired man asked, certainly surprised. "Yeah, just the 'unwanted property' of one of the Lieutenant's clients," Howzer sneered.

That sneer. It had just begun to get on her nerves. Elizabeth would definitely choose to head-butt him if it were only the two of them here, but since there were two frighteningly massive men right in front of her, she didn't want to take any chances.

Her arms were beginning to hurt. _Cut the chit-chat already!_

The words 'unwanted property' rung in her ears. How dare he say that when she clearly asked them to take her with them? Was he referring to how her father and sisters denied relations to her? They did it out of love at that time. They wanted her to be the only one who got away.

Right?

How could she possibly doubt them? They had been so good to her that day on her birthday, not to mention every single day of her life since she was placed on their doorstep. The look Margaret had on her porcelain face just before she was dragged away with the rest of her family was enough to reaffirm that fact.

She had been zoning out for so long that her heart had leapt into her mouth when a shout as loud as thunder shot straight through her ears. "Y…Yes?"

"I said, who are you?" Howzer ruffed, and this time she looked him squarely in the eye, a fiery spirit blazing in her heart at the thought these people could lead her to her family hiding just around the corner.

"It's Elizabeth. Elizabeth… Liones," She had hesitated only the slightest when a sting on her cheek startled her. She brought her hand up to her cheek and felt the red-hot imprint of a palm emblazon itself onto it. Had he just… slapped her?

"Do you think you have any right to look on the same level as a general?" Howzer barked ferociously, making her whimper like a puppy. "And no one told you to put your hands down!"

Her hands shot up in the air immediately as if remote-controlled. And at that moment, Elizabeth realized she had every right to fear this man and the other standing next to him with the steel-hard blue gaze.

"Follow General Gilthunder here," Howzer snarled. He grinned demonically. "He'll take you… to your family."

The pink haired man, now known as Gilthunder, seized her arm and pulled her away. Her skin pricked with the cold armor pressing against it. They left the room full of crates after entering through another door and disappearing behind it, leaving Howzer alone in the room.

His purple gaze dropped. His rough hands brought themselves up to his face as he held it with despair.

"I just slapped a girl," he whispered, then yelled. "I just slapped a GIRL!"

What had his father taught him when he was little? To be a gentleman to girls so they thought you polite and got attracted to you? No kidding, the Elizabeth girl was one hell of a beauty, but nonetheless, hitting a girl as fragile as that went against his principles.

Howzer shut his eyes. He couldn't do anything about it anyway. If he ever went against the Lieutenant's orders, he knew what was coming to him. And so did Baltra Liones. He should have known better than to defy the Lieutenant's orders.

The girl Elizabeth's cries in the night echoed back in his ears. The house had gone up in flames, and her mud-caked face was streaked with tears. He immediately realized this was a flashback; perhaps it was just his imagination, but to him it seemed very, very real.

Howzer jerked his head back up again. Her fiery sapphire gaze had burned a hole in him. Those fiery eyes, that determination… he being such a coward, he had brought up a hand to bring her down.

Was he, a general of the almighty Lieutenant Wrath, scared to challenge a dirty young girl with fiery eyes?

He shook out of his worrisome thoughts and looked toward the door Gilthunder had just brought her through. Her silver hair was the only thing different about her, but otherwise she looked the exact image of someone from a very long time ago.

"I wonder what the Lieutenant has to say about this," Howzer murmured under his breath, and trooped back to headquarters to report.

…

Elizabeth grunted as she was thrown to the floor roughly. In the dim light, Gilthunder's steely face stared back at her.

"You'll stay in here until further notice," he said, and the metallic sound of a key turning in a lock diminished her hopes of escaping this cell.

At least she knew someone was here with her.

"Father?" Her voice echoed in the dark cell, and she put her hand out in front of her to feel for anything before her. "Are you there?"

Her hand touched something warm: a palm. And suddenly her father's forlorn face came into light.

"Eli... zabeth?" was all he could mumble. Then he scooped her up in his giant arms, and the floodgates opened. They just sat there on the cold hard ground, crying for a good few minutes when Elizabeth pulled away, her watery blue eyes gazing at her father.

"Are you hurt anywhere?" There was a small cut on her father's forehead, probably from falling down the other night. Other than that, bruises marked his wrinkled skin, but his dark brown gaze looked only glad to see her.

"Elizabeth… why are you here?" At this, Elizabeth bowed her head. She had come here to rescue him… but it seemed now that there was no hope left. "I guess… I just wanted to see you again. Your goodbye… wasn't satisfactory to me."

Tears welled in Baltra's eyes. "You little brat… when will you learn to be thankful for what you have?" He sniffed into Elizabeth's hair. "But I am truly thankful… that you are here. Thank you."

His breathing was getting shallow, and Elizabeth held onto him tightly. "Are you okay, Father?" Baltra reassured her and, placing his hands onto her shoulders, looked into her eyes.

"Elizabeth. I've never told you about what happened that night, nor seventeen years ago, but you have all the right to know. And maybe, if you see your sisters someday in the future… please tell them this, from me, as well." Elizabeth sniffed, and waited patiently for her father to recollect his thoughts.

Baltra took a deep breath. "Seventeen years ago, when Margaret was barely five and Veronica was still a toddler, their mother contracted a sudden illness. I was desperate and anxious, and at the moment no doctor could cure her. The only way was through a high paying course of treatment she would have to endure for weeks. I, at the time, did not have enough to afford for their mother's treatment, so I enquired the help of an old friend. Only, I hadn't suspected what he had become."

"I got the money I needed and treated Caroline. But it all failed…" Baltra choked back a sob at this, "… and she couldn't be saved. By the time she was gone I was nearly broke. So I…"

"I… got more from him. For raising Margaret and Veronica. And on one fated day, you… suddenly you appeared…" And Elizabeth now knew how much trouble, pain and suffering she had caused her poor father. She was the reason he was in this cell now.

"Father…" She hung her head in despair. "Forgive me… I didn't know how much hardship I put you through…"

"The past stays the past," said her father, and gave her shoulders a small squeeze. "Anyway, I was supposed to pay him back within the span of five years—but I kept extending it. I extended it until even my youngest has turned seventeen, and all my daughters are ready to go out to work, so I would then be able to work hard myself to pay the debt I had made for myself to my old friend. But I cannot blame his patience for running out. It has been too long… way too long…"

And then her father wept. Elizabeth held his shaking shoulders and wondered, _what can I do for my father?_

"Father, when you and I get out of here, I promise…" She held up her pinky finger to her father's face. "I promise to get back at the person who put you through so much suffering."

Instead of hooking his finger with hers, Baltra recoiled and shook his head like a wounded dog. "He is dangerous, Elizabeth, too much for even you and me together. He is unlike any tyrant, more vicious and cruel than I thought he would be. Whatever you do, Elizabeth, do not get involved with him in any matter. I beg of you, do not put yourself in harm's way."

Her father's earnest plea made her want to cry, but just as Elizabeth opened her mouth to reply, her father's eyes widened. Shaking, he slowly reached into Elizabeth's side pocket and pulled out the three flutes.

"What… are these?" His face contorted to a mixture of horror and relief, and he hugged the three flutes to his chest like it was his last string of sanity. "Elizabeth, I want you to take these." He pushed them into her palms, and she drew back, startled. "What are these, Father?"

Baltra took her hands, placed the flutes into her palms and closed her fingers around them. "I made these during the beginning of spring this year. Here, the moon's for Margaret, the sun's for Veronica, and yours is the star." He placed a hand on her tousled head. "You're a shining star, Elizabeth; in the dark, you always lead us back to the light."

Elizabeth's eyes glimmered. Before she could reply, the metallic clank of armor sounded near the stairs leading to their cell. Frantically she pocketed the flutes and clutched her father tightly.

Howzer appeared this time, holding a torch to the cell so that their faces were made known in the light. The cruel snarl on his face made Elizabeth want to recoil.

"Elizabeth 'Liones'"— and at this he mocked her by raising his free hand and mimicking air quotes—"you hold no business here in our quarters. Take everything you have now and get out of here."

Baltra held his daughter's hands and stared at her face. It was dirty, and greasy, but she would always be his beloved adopted daughter no matter how much dirt masked her features.

"Father, forgive me." Elizabeth repeated, and then turned to the guard. "Take him out instead."

Baltra's heart stopped. Howzer squinted. "What?"

"I'll take my father's place," Elizabeth narrowed her eyebrows in turn. "as hostage for your Lieutenant."

Howzer's lips curled disgustingly. "Too late for watching your words now, isn't it?"

* * *

 **Now the real fun starts... hope you guys liked this one!**

-Mint-chan.


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